


Things You Said...

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:20:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5834032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ask prompts for Phan! Includes things like 2012!phan angst and will be updated whenever I finish another drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 13. things you said at the kitchen table

**Author's Note:**

> so i decided to do [this](http://demisexualhowell.tumblr.com/post/138103264626/send-me-a-ship-and-one-of-these-and-ill-write-a) ask prompt thing because i'm kinda going through a writer's block! these'll probably really vary in length and genre, but i'll see what i can do ^^
> 
> i also got a few stydia prompts, a stormpilot one and a ginny/luna one, and i'll be posting those seperately ^^

**Genre:**  2012!phan angst

**Word count:** ~650 words

 

* * * * *

 

 

It’s 6am and the fork in his hand feels like it’s made of lead. He lets his hand drop down to the table, not caring about the scratch it might leave behind on the stone of the breakfast bar. 

It’s 6am and Dan can’t go back to sleep again, so instead he’s eating scrambled eggs from a plate. They feel cold in his mouth and he has to force himself to chew and swallow, chew and swallow, a repetitive motion that sums up his entire life at the moment. 

Chew down comments, swallow down tears. The leaking of the Valentine’s Day Video had been an accident, Dan’s sure of that, because Phil had been the one who wanted to keep this all a secret, Phil had been the one to convince Dan that it’d be better this way. He’d never leak the Video on purpose.

The bite in his mouth tastes stale, vaguely like the blood he swallowed down the night before from when he split his trembling lip when trying to keep the tears in. It makes him nauseous and he shoves the plate away with as much force as he can manage. 

His hands are trembling and he curls them into fists in an effort not to let the tears fall down his cheeks, in an effort to keep the broken pieces of himself together. He wants to cry, to scream, to slap Phil and hug him afterwards, to kiss Phil until they’re both breathless and then bite down on his lip a little too harshly. 

Mostly though, he wants Phil to hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay, like he’d done when Dan turned nineteen and was worried he was wasting his life away in a small bedroom with a bed that broke his back.

He freezes when he hears the creak of a floorboard, the shuffle of trousers against skin. There are lines left over from his nails when he uncurls his fingers, a stark contrast with his skin and a reminder of how fucked up this all was. 

Phil was supposed to make him feel safe, make him feel loved and warm. Now, the thought of actually talking to Phil sends shivers down his spine and he grabs his plate, throwing the remnants of the eggs in the bin.

“Hey,” Phil says from behind him. Dan can feel his shoulders tensing, become a rigid line to protect from whatever Phil’s going to say. “Can’t sleep either?”

Dan shakes his head, not looking at Phil as he puts the plate in the dishwasher. If this happened a month ago, Phil would’ve hugged him from behind, his arms tight around Dan’s waist as he kissed Dan’s temple. Now, they’re awkwardly standing in the kitchen, breakfast bar between them as an imaginary shield, a barrier between them that can be both seen and felt. 

“Me neither.” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the way his eyes are prickling at the corners, brushing past Phil as he walks back to his own bedroom, away from all of it, away from  _ Phil _ . 

“Hey Dan?” Phil asks, his voice sad and tired, and Dan can imagine the way he looks right now, can almost  _ see _ the way Phil’s slumped against the cold stone of the breakfast bar, his arms shaking as he tries to keep himself from giving in and crying. He swallows and turns back around, careful to keep his gaze on the floor. “Please, come here.”

He nods, his feet trailing on the tiles as he walks back to Phil, throws himself into Phil’s arms and whispers, “I’m sorry,” as the tears start falling, burning away at his vision until he can feel is the ache in his head and Phil’s arms as he whispers soft nothings into Dan’s hair, his own tears dampening the strands. 

Maybe, Dan thinks, maybe they’ll be alright.


	2. 6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

_**genre:** fluff_

_**word count:** ~350 words_

 

* * * * *

 

The wind is sharp and cold, and the grass tickles his sides, but Dan remains down, his head tilted up to look at the stars. They’ve always caught his attention, ever present even when you can’t see them, a constant in his life when he was a teenager and, admittedly, after that too.

They’d slowly been replaced by Phil however. Phil, who took care of him when he was eighteen and afraid to face the world in front of him, who loved him when Dan shouted that he hated Phil, who’d taken him in when he was twenty years old and so uncertain of the future.

He doesn’t realise he’s been staring at Phil until Phil turns his head to look at him, a bright smile on his face as he asks, “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he answers, no sign of hesitation in his voice. If this were three years ago, he might’ve cringed at the cliché, or the blatant public display of affection, but through the years he’s come to terms with the fact that Phil and he are probably the cheesiest, most cliché couple to ever have existed and it doesn’t really bother him anymore.

Phil beams at him, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling as his cheeks grow red. Dan’s breathless, an invisible weight pressing down on his chest at the sight. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, turning back to look at the stars that remind him so much of Phil that there’s an ache. It starts in his stomach and twists upwards until Phil grabs his hand and twists their fingers together. It’s so easy, so smooth, that Dan can’t help but smile.

“I love you,” Phil says as he pulls at Dan’s hand until Dan’s head is resting on his chest, Phil’s arm slung around his middle. Phil’s said it a thousand times, but Dan still feels his cheeks heat and he buries his face into Phil’s chest. The vibrations of Phil’s silent laughter reverberate through his skin and he laughs back.

“I love you too.”


	3. 11. things you said when you were drunk

**Genre:** Smut

 **Word count:** ~1k words

 

* * * * *

 

They’re at a friend’s party, and Phil’s sitting in a corner, a cup filled with lukewarm beer in his hand. He likes parties, he really does, but he isn’t really in the mood tonight. That being said, Dan obviously is. Phil won’t admit to watching him dance around the room for the entire evening, watching him chug down beers and shots like his life depended on it, but he has.

It isn’t often that Dan gets drunk, but when he does, he gets  _ extremely _ drunk. Phil smiles at his half-full cup at that. Dan isn’t exactly the pinnacle of the self-control.

Dan’s dancing, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He’s way too tall, way too awkward, but his moves are graceful in a way that sober Dan’s aren’t. Phil’s seen Dan drunk plenty of times, when he was nineteen and wanted to die and when they first got a radio show, and he knows Dan’s the kind of person who turns even more entrancing when they get drunk.

He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Dan looks at him, smirking. Phil looks away quickly at that, resisting the urge to wipe his sweaty palms on his trousers. He swallows the beer down in one big gulp in an effort to distract himself from the nervousness in his stomach.

He jumps when someone sits – or well, plops – down next to him, too lost in staring at the red plastic cup. Dan’s smiling at him, hair curling where it’s wet and Phil crushes the ridiculous urge to smooth them down over Dan’s forehead, to trail his fingers down the slope of Dan’s nose and over his cheekbones before coming to rest on his lips –

“Phil,” Dan smiles goofily. “I wanted to- to ask you for a favour.”

He slaps his hand on Phil’s chest, fingers digging into the skin before he trails them down over Phil’s arm. Phil swallows, a current shooting down his spine at the touch and he shifts a bit when Dan’s grin turns predatory. 

“What is it?” Phil manages to choke out, throat going dry as Dan leans over him, his pupils dilated, the brown swallowed by black. He clenches his hands into fists in a desperate effort to resist putting his hands on Dan’s hips and pulling them down.

“Do you-” Dan whispers, sitting down on Phil’s lap as Phil bites his lip to keep from whimpering. Dan’s close,  _ so close _ , his breath flowing over Phil’s face and it reeks of alcohol, the sole reminder that Phil should keep his hands to himself, shouldn’t kiss him. “Do you wanna make out?”

It’s so cliché, Dan sitting on his lap during a party, drunk, asking if he wants to make out, and Phil would laugh if that question didn’t knock the breath out of him. Dan’s eyes are roving over his face, as if he’s trying to remember all the details before they land on his lips.

“I-” he starts but Dan leans down, crashing his mouth onto Phil’s. He threads his hands through Phil’s hair and pulls, and Phil can’t help the little moan that escapes him, which Dan swallows down greedily, smirking against Phil’s lips. Phil softly bites down on Dan’s bottom lip in retaliation, making Dan grind down.

“Let’s take this somewhere else, shall we?” Dan mumbles once he pulls back, chest heaving. Phil can do nothing but nod as Dan takes his hand and leads him away from the lukewarm beer and the mediocre dancing, into the bathroom. His mind’s reeling, telling him that Dan’s drunk and they shouldn’t be doing this, but before Phil can but a stop to it, Dan pushes him into the wall. 

The tiles are cold behind him, but Dan immediately presses up against him. Dan’s mouth is fever-hot as it trails over his neck, leaving kisses and bites and Phil is helpless to do anything but grind down on the leg between his thigh. 

“God,” Dan pants into his neck. “Wanted to do this for so long.” 

He isn’t aware of where Dan’s hands are, too busy trailing paths down Dan’s back with his fingers, until Dan’s fingers are fumbling with the zipper of Phil’s pants. Phil sucks in a breath when Dan’s fingers flit over his cock, and his hips buck up involuntarily. 

Dan slides down to his knees, taking Phil’s trousers and boxers with him and Phil hisses when the cold air flits over his cock. Dan just smirks and looks up at him from under his eyelashes, grabbing Phil in his hand and giving him a long stroke. 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Phil breathes as Dan wraps his lips around his cock. “Shit, Dan.”

Phil’s head falls back against the wall and he reaches to tangle his hand in Dan’s hair. Dan braces himself against Phil’s hip as he sinks down deeper, working on opening his throat and Phil can feel it clenching and fluttering around the head of his cock. He can hardly breathe, staring down at Dan and seeing his red lips stretched around him and the concentration on his face. He’s wanted this for so fucking long.

He closes his eyes, the sight of Dan on his knees - lips swollen and red, saliva and pre-cum running down his chin - way too tempting. He clenches the hand in Dan’s hair in an attempt not to fuck up into his mouth and Dan moans, sucking Phil down with more enthusiasm.

“Close,” Phil manages to choke out. Dan pulls off, spilling over his own hand as he comes himself. Phil tugs roughly on Dan’s hair as the latter gets his own hand on himself and starts to jerk himself off. Dan’s still making these amazing little noises, shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Phil gasps and bites into his lip as he comes too, watching it land on Dan’s face, on his chin and his cheeks, and his lips. Phil slumps back against the wall, head spinning and Dan leans his forehead onto Phil’s thigh, a small smile on his face.

“We’re going home,” Phil says after awhile, when he’s found his breath again. “And when we get there, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress.”

**Author's Note:**

> [come hang out on tumblr!](http://demisexualhowell.tumblr.com)


End file.
